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Hello.

There are stories we tell to one-up each other, and then there is this blog. Read wondrous tales of strange creatures, explore the depths of human indecency, and hopefully laugh a little as we find out what could possibly make people do what they do.

I Didn't Know Dr. Robotnik Had a Daughter

I Didn't Know Dr. Robotnik Had a Daughter

I toy, from time to time, with the idea of doing a silent night. Walk in, clock in, work for a few hours, clock out, go home. All while not speaking to anyone. Not to patrons. Not to colleagues. Just silence.

Would it really work? Probably not. There’s always somebody new to explain why you never played basketball, why you were gloves, or what’s with the resting dick face. Or tell to stop standing on a chair. Or drinking in public. Or using a fake.

But it’d be cool for a night to just be imposing enough that simple hand and eye movements can make somebody ‘get it.’ And it’s not just a physical characteristic. Think back on how many actors carry a minutes-long scene without dialogue. Harrison Ford in Clear and Present Danger. Bruce Willis in Die Hard. Al Pacino in The Godfather. Meryl Streep in literally any movie.

Sure, they talk a bunch in those movies, too, but it sure would be nice to look cross at someone and not give off the impression of Gru from Despicable Me attempting to scold one of his wards.

Sometimes writing is hard, as no doubt you’ve gleaned from the missing stories these past few weeks. Hard work and multiple 60+ hour workweeks. Something has to pay for all these concert trips.

Instead of thinking ways to work around all sounds, I shall bring you a story centered on just one.


Door(guy) Busters

If you see a long line when you walk up to the bar, please go someplace else. We don’t need your business so bad that we’ll allow you to skip the line. We literally have the most business we can have at that specific point in time. Likewise, when you see a long line at the women’s restroom (and it’s only marked Women and Men), you must also kindly wait your turn.

You can’t go into the Men’s room.

“But wait, Big Bad Jon, this is 2019!”

“True. This is 2019. But there is also quite a few laws and standards bars and restaurants need to follow for your safety.”

For instance, are you OK with a guy walking into the women’s room because the men’s line is too long?

Are you OK with going into the men’s room and exposing any kind of skin contact with the toilet seat?

Do you have IBS and have asked the manager if it’s okay to use the opposite marked restroom in an emergency, provided all other people are out of the bathroom, and none are to enter until you have left?

If you thought all of those are legally acceptable reasons … you’d be WRONG.

The only legally binding reason for a man or woman to use the other’s restroom is in the case of a medical emergency (and often only IBS-related issues) AND if that bathroom doubles as the employee restroom. If there is a separate employee restroom, then the medical emergency may happen there, bypassing all the gender stuff.

Also, our bathrooms are not single stalls. Nor are they marked for anything but Men and Women.

“OK, Big Bad Jon, I guess you have a point. But why are you lecturing me about bathrooms like some North Carolina state senator?”

“Whoa, hang on there. I’m just the messenger, not an advocate for segregation. Why colleges were OK with co-ed bathrooms and it hasn’t reached mainstream society is beyond me.”

“Well, what’s the message then?”

“Oh, right.”

Women keep punching Sunshine in the face after he ejects them for going into the men’s room.

In fact, he did it had two ejections last weekend and didn’t get punched, which is still one less time than he has been punched in the face overall.

The third time Sunshine got punched, a regular, Fozzy, said the fist-on-eyeglasses contact sounded like Sonic the Hedgehog collecting gold rings.

Everything in Here, Including You, Is Trash

Everything in Here, Including You, Is Trash

Standing Outside a Broken Bar Window with a Note 5 in My Hand

Standing Outside a Broken Bar Window with a Note 5 in My Hand